


Deny You, Me, and Us

by SC182



Series: Misplaced Things [1]
Category: Batman Beyond, Justice League, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fractured Fairy Tale, Future Fic, M/M, Magic, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"You don't know what you've got 'til its gone."</i>--Joni Mitchell. </p>
<p>Yeah, Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deny You, Me, and Us

**Author's Note:**

> General spoilers for Smallville, Batman, and the Timm!verse Justice League Unlimited.

_The best stories are true. If you didn’t know that then you’ll learn soon enough. This is a tale from many years ago. During the golden age of heroes, men and women with extraordinary gifts battled monsters, aliens, and all the wicked machinations that came the way of Earth. It was a different time then. Two of the greatest heroes were Superman and Batman.  
  
You already know that.  
  
What you don’t know about are the lessons they had to learn very painfully. Lessons that every parent teaches their child. One does not take good things for granted. Not the little things, like acts of kindness, or the larger things, that can shape a person’s very being.  
  
There is nothing like taking love for granted, as you’ll soon learn._   


* * *

  
“This is monumental. Landing an exclusive interview with A.C. Hopkins could launch a career, but this- -” Clark was rendered speechless as he pulled on his tunic. “—This is the story of a lifetime.”  
  
“Congratulations to you for snagging it.”  
  
Clark began to slick his hair back. “I’m honored. This guy is trusting me with his life.”  
  
“People do that every day.”  
  
“No, Bruce. He could lose everything.”  
  
“Then, why are we doing the same thing tomorrow night?”  
  
“You said having the world know you were in a stable relationship with someone with more than half a brain would cause you to spend less time on picking dates and pretending to be as feckless as you want everyone to believe.”  
  
“I know what I said.”  
  
“People obviously know you’re not that feckless. Bruce, I thought we had agreed to do this. It’s not as if we’re coming out at Gotham Pride or the WayneCorp Gala. This is the smallest event of the year.”  
  
“There’s still a lot riding on the line here. The losses might not be as apparent as what may happen to A.C. Hopkins, but the consequences of this decision will be evident. Sometimes, emotions blind us to not thinking things through.”  
  
“That sounds like something the Bat would say.”  
  
Shaking his head, Clark looked at Bruce, wearing that one small smile in particular that was a pain in Bruce’s side. It was one of extreme patience and sympathy. He didn’t need Clark’s sympathy for not being a romantic fool. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m wrong here, like I keep miscalculating what it is that we both want out of this. There are moments when we understand each other better than anyone else in the universe. Then, there are others when I just don’t know. A lot of things are more than just lost in translation.”  
  
Bruce turned his back to Clark purposely and gave his attention to his laptop instead. “Have a good patrol.” He said in a terse voice.  
  
A whoosh of air and Clark was gone and Superman’s night had just begun. Bruce figured it was time for the Batman to do the same.  
  
Four A.M.  
  
He returned to the Manor. The night was rather ordinary, which in his experience was never really a good thing. Gotham had been quiet, save for breaking up a few fights and scaring off would-be attackers. It was the type of night that generally led to returning to the cave and working on new contingency plans and getting Clark’s input.  
  
In the cave, Bruce striped and slid into a black t-shirt and sweats, opting to shower and relax in the luxury of his bathroom. The possibility of having plenty of room to thoroughly apologize to Clark in. Alfred had long since gone to bed, but the man had hearing like a bat and would undoubtedly hear Bruce pacing through the house despite his best efforts to be quiet. That special attribute made Bruce glad that Alfred was on their side.  
  
He forced his thoughts to remain on the shower, rather than contemplate the evening’s earlier discussion or the reasons for tension between him and Clark before they went on their respective patrols. As he stepped into the shower and allowed the many glistening showerheads to turn their beating waves of hot spray upon his aching muscles, Bruce could only hope Clark’s arrival would be soon. That was as wishful as his thinking would go.  
  
There was disappointment for the remainder of Bruce’s shower and the entirety of eating. The Batman called an end to his patrol. Clark’s side of the bed was just as he’d left it, neat and unwrinkled.  
  
He waited until he slipped off to sleep.  
  
His day started out routinely enough. Bruce exercised, showered, went to the office and made calls. All the while, he thought of Clark and this manifested into checking his e-mail more than usual and general scowling in the direction of the phone.  
  
As noon crept in and Bruce had managed to be very productive for an industrialist and nocturnal crime fighter, he bit the bullet and called Clark’s cell.  
  
No answer.  
  
The sound of Clark’s cheery voice encouraging him to leave a voicemail served to amp his ire. “Clark- -” Bruce bristled. “I’m sure you’re ignoring my calls, because you’re upset.” There would be no apology spilling forth from his lips. “I’m simply calling to confirm our plans for the evening. A return call would be nice.”  
  
Bruce didn’t call Clark again. Instead, he focused on business matters and ways to appropriate some of the new tech he’d seen down in Aero-defense. The day wore on and eventually the heavy silence due to the absence of personnel penetrated his office and made Bruce return to the Manor.  
  
When he asked if Clark had called or come by the Manor, Alfred’s response was a simple, “No, Master Bruce.”  
  
By the time Bruce dressed for the evening and found his ticket, he was in as close to a state as he’d ever get. Luckily, Clark had his own ticket. The plan, as they had rehearsed it, involved Bruce showing up to give his annual donation, fulfilling his responsibilities as the Prince of Gotham. While Clark would come with press pass and ticket in tow, despite the fact that the Daily Planet wouldn’t be too concerned with a small time social affair in Gotham unless it had the presence of one of the town’s notoriously fiendish crazies, they’d simply gravitate towards each other and remain that way for the rest of the night.  
  
If anyone asked they wouldn’t deny it.  
  
Though, Bruce had no intention of unfurling a big rainbow colored carpet and frenching Clark in the middle of it. Clark hadn’t seemed to understand. Now, he’d all but runaway from Bruce to show his disapproval for Bruce’s strategy.  
  
If Clark were thinking clearly, he’d see the best strategy was the one with the least fallout.  
  
The affair was boring and stuffy. Slightly better than some of the affairs Bruce was forced to attend, because key members of Gotham’s upper-crust were missing and Bruce wasn’t really forced to put on his pseudo-happy playboy mask.  
  
So far, so good. The usual Gotham dames came up to him trying to talk business, though most of them wouldn’t know a microchip from a chocolate chip, they all tried to make a little conversation before mentioning the fact that they had beautiful, smart, and completely available granddaughters and a grandson or two, if he was interested.  
  
He simply replied that he was waiting for someone. Eyes on the door and the balcony of the ballroom, Bruce saw everyone enter and exit for the entire night. Not once had his eyes locked on a pairing of shockingly green ones.  
  
When the night was over, Bruce wouldn’t have been able to tell you what half of the things talked about were or where the money was supposedly going. Rather, he was angry, so indignant that Clark would stand him up that he was glad this was one of those rare occasions that he drove himself.  
  
Metropolis loomed in front of him after hours of driving. The anger was pushing him forward, as was something else. The streets were empty. Orange street lights danced into one golden blur as he sped towards Clark’s apartment. The road was absent of cars, save for one or two, cabs mostly returning patrons from a night of partying and debauchery.  
  
What was Clark’s excuse? Anger? Resentment?  
  
There was a voice in his mind. The one that emerged from the gravel throated dark seeker, the Bat. His words were loud and clear. “This is what you get for trying to have a relationship. Remember the mission--”  
  
The other sounded more like Bruce. That one wanted to know what he could do to fix it. “Apologize. Talk to him. Make sure he’s not upset.”  
  
He travelled the stairs forgoing the slow elevator, feet hitting the chipped tile two steps at a time. Clark lived on the top floor, which also had a continuously flickering bulb at the center of the hall. Why no one fixed it was beyond Bruce?  
  
There’s a split second when he tried to decide how he was going to enter. Key or pick the lock? Did it matter? What if the chain was on the door? Bruce whipped out his key and leaned on the door lightly, listening for any sounds. Clark was never Super at home and Bruce had managed to sneak up on him before simply because of that.  
  
The apartment was dark. Ridiculously quiet. The bed was made, as if Clark had freshly done so a while ago. A coffee cup with very stale coffee sat on the counter. It all looked undisturbed.  
  
The eerie silence of Clark’s warm domicile made it obvious that Clark hadn’t returned home.  
  
Suddenly, both voices were quiet.  
  
“Master Bruce.”  
  
Alfred’s trusty voice was swallowed up by the steady rap of the keys beneath Bruce’s fingers. Feeds from around Metropolis gave him a few seconds worth of seeing Superman. Nothing beyond ten seconds. There was nothing out of the ordinary. So, completely normal.  
  
But something did happen. There were no more feeds after 3 am.  
  
“Master Bruce.” Alfred repeated more forcefully.  
  
Bruce stopped typing. He couldn’t stop now. This was just a pause. “You have the stockholders’ meeting. An event that cannot be missed or postponed.”  
  
It was on the tip of his tongue to argue out of principle, but he couldn’t. The search results flickered across the screen in rapid succession. Familiar splashes of red and blue darted about the screen.  
  
He stood and walked past Alfred after taking the suit the older man had picked out for him.  
  
“You’ll find him, sir.” Alfred sounded like he always did, confident and sure. Something about this put Bruce on edge. Not the evidence though, but a feeling.  
  
Bruce didn’t like following feelings rather than information. “I will eventually.”  
  
Of course, Alfred hadn’t liked the way Bruce conducted his relationship with Clark. Alfred had his ways of showing his disapproval from scowls to vocal rebuffs. He’d been proud though when Bruce decided to make the relationship public. Alfred was tired of the fake dates and somewhat foppish behavior as it was.  
  
For two hours, he slipped on his business man role. Wore the persona of Bruce Wayne, scion of Gotham with masterful skill, and polished himself up to be the heir of Gotham, at least how the heir was supposed to act in public. A mental battle was found behind his alternating genial smile and discerning gaze. There would be serious changes once he found Clark. He’d yell and growl first. Then, he’d kiss Clark until the Kryptonian was breathless. If he could, he’d force the Kryptonian to wear a bell that Bruce could always use to find him. He’d even settle for them wearing the comm links he’d designed.  
  
When it was all over, after Bruce had shaken far too many hands and made promises to play golf or do lunch with various board members, he mentally sloughed off the businessman and allowed the Batman to take the lead again. He could pour over the search results again later, but first he needed to suit up and go the one place that only the Bat could reach.  
  
The Fortress.  


* * *

  
The batwing touched down on the barren icy arctic planes. Wind and snow swirled around the windshield making the visibility worse than poor.  
  
As Batman exited the plane, he would only resemble a black dot on the horizon. The only spot of color even when compared to the mountain crystal domain looming up in front of him. Even now, as Batman stood literally on Superman's doorstep, the structure appeared remarkably translucent. Nothing but ice and snow. The wind cut through his insulated gear and made him flinch and frigid down to the bone.  
  
"A.I."  
  
There was no response. The wind was still gusting at Gail force speeds.  
  
He opened his mouth and paused at the slice of the cold wind upon his tongue and down his throat.  
  
The A.I's name was poised on his tongue, but the crystal door slid up and a melodious voice chimed, "Biosignature recognized."  
  
Batman allowed himself to thaw in the heat, or the relative heat of the Fortress. "A.I., adjust temporal controls to moderate to warm."  
  
The A.I. immediately complied and gradually the chattering of his teeth lessened as the heat flowed through the crystalline halls. He looked about and found the immediate vicinity a Superman-free space.  
  
“Climate controls adjusted, Bat-man.”  
  
He walked through the crystalline halls. Boots tapped lightly on the floor as he moved through the Fortress. Superman's bedroom was empty.  
  
The glossy thin material was garish. Blazingly red against the structures of crystal and ice. But somehow, it managed to be beautiful in Batman's eyes.  
  
"A.I., respond."  
  
"Yes, Bat-man." The mechanical voice replied.  
  
"Confirm Kal-El's last access to the Fortress?"  
  
Seconds passed as the A.I. considered his request. "Confirm response, Bat-man. Three Terran days ago."  
  
Batman's mouth thinned into a straight angry line. "A.I., did Kal-El mention an extended stay off planet or mediation in seclusion?" The last part was due to Batman knowing that every so often, Clark liked to submerse himself with the sounds of life.

Therefore, making a trip to the jungle would seem plausible. Then again, Clark taking off in a fit of anger wouldn't have registered with the A.I..  
  
“Confirm, response, Bat-man. Kal-El has not mentioned extended travel. Though, A.I. can confirm, Kal-El is not in danger."  
  
The A.I.'s last statement baffled Batman. "A.I., explain."  
  
“Negative, Bat-man. A.I. has reached the limits of Bat-man's access to information."  
  
"A.I.," He grit between his teeth. The A.I. refused to respond. It had never before done so. His scowl deepened. He moved to the master crystal board and searched for any signs of infiltration. Brainiac came to mind. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Batman's cape swirled around him as he walked towards the door.  
  
He'd find Clark. No matter how far he'd have to go. His list of resources just became a little smaller.

* * *

  
On Day Four, Bruce sorted through every feed gathered from his search two days prior. His one break for the day included a quick trip to Metropolis to set up censors in Clark’s apartment. Again, the quaint little domicile was tidy and cold.  
  
Every visit had always been accompanied by the smell of gourmet coffees and the fruity sweetness of a fresh baked pie. The coffee was one Clark’s true vices and he spared no expense when it came to the morning drink. Business or pleasure, this was one of the good points in Bruce’s relationship with Clark.  
  
Not that there weren’t many good things.  
  
Day Five, Bruce returned to the Fortress to check the security integrity of its system. He didn’t much care for the A.I.’s cryptic response that Kal-El was essentially fine. Brainiac hadn’t infiltrated the Fortress again and Clark hadn’t returned to either Metropolis or Gotham.  
  
The chill of the Fortress still remained in his bones. He returned to the cave and began his next round of investigation. Patrol didn’t last long and he didn’t even bluster when he saw a fellow League member doing patrol in his city. It was mild relief, if anything, and Batman returned to the cave to continue his search for leads.  
  
Day five bled into Day six. Bruce’s stamina allowed him to pull all nighters more often than a harried medical student. His eyes were fully open and lingering over each image of Superman for the last two weeks. He’d nearly established a minute to minute time frame of all the events of the past weeks.  
  
Dawn came and went. The clock on the cave’s monitor was his only means of tracking time. And this battle was one that he seemed to be losing. He wasn’t any closer to figuring it out. Mountains of data analyzed. Every piece accounted for though it didn’t amount to anything useful. Whatever was happening made Bruce feel like a puppet on a string, and all the strings and the person manipulating them were well above his head. So far, that he couldn’t even begin to see who.  
  
Arkham was quiet. All the regulars: the Joker, Poison Ivy, Harvey—Two Face, the Riddler, the Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, and The Penguin. They were all in place. Each one was plotting their escape, but none of them had the means to pull something this elaborate.  
  
The last he’d heard several of the sidekicks under the leadership of Harley Quinn were rehabilitating themselves into fine citizens now that they were away from their human triggers.  
  
Metropolis offered a similar situation. Luthor, Metallo, Parasite, Live Wire, and Toy Man were all either locked up or as quiet as church mice. His eye had lingered on Luthor and the man had remained as busy as an industrialist should be. None of his usual haunts, labs and warehouses, had been visited.  
  
All too quiet and ordered.  
  
The next day rolled into the next and Bruce remained in front of his computer. The patrol for that night forgone. The latest news hadn’t mentioned anything about Superman’s disappearance. Rather other League members were picking up the slack. Lois Lane didn’t seem perturbed in the least.  
  
This sent up warning signs.  
  
The League didn’t seem concerned. Not that he’d asked. He was an auxiliary member, even though he was in the Founding Seven. The streets of Gotham and Metropolis were covered. Just as the master would have planned it.  
  
So many pieces and not one that didn’t fit. Clark’s e-mail and voicemail were checked every hour. Nothing different. The usual Planet e-mails, mostly leads to stories and news. A cute e-mail for Chloe Sullivan. The messages in his voicemail ranged from his mother calling to check in with him to his dry cleaning being ready. All so ordinary.  
  
An e-mail from Lois popped up. The mouse slid over the header when Alfred descended down the cave’s stairs. He couldn’t be disturbed now.  
  
‘Finish sunning yourself later and come back already.’  
  
She’d actually managed to spell everything correctly. How Lois could actually be a journalist still boggled his mind. She knew where he was. Lois was the key, of course.  
  
“Master Bruce.”  
  
Alfred. Not now, he needed to check her messages as well. Clark might have contacted her during his ‘vacation’.  
  
“Master Bruce.”  
  
“Alfred, I think I found a lead.”  
  
Alfred didn’t stop behind the chair, but rather in the center of Bruce’s periphery. “Master Bruce, I need to remind you of tonight’s event.”  
  
Event? What event? Bruce hadn’t thought of anything other than collecting the evidence and using it to find Clark. It dawned on him as Lois’s e-mail opened up to his viewing. The Gotham Gala. A can’t miss even for the Prince of Gotham. He had to go. It was sponsored by the Wayne Foundation after all.  
  
“The Gotham Gala.” He sighed as he wiped his eyes. Suddenly, the intensity of the light made his eyes dry and a mild throb started at his temples. He didn’t want to go. None of that, the foppish displays, the Cool Prince. None of it actually mattered, because none of it would bring Clark back.  
  
“I can’t--”  
  
“You must. This is a Wayne tradition.”  
  
The word tradition seemed to raise an unreasonable amount of anger in him. The road he’d taken had long ago deviated from tradition. His life was as far from traditional as possible. One thing that did seem normal, a relationship with an actual person who could handle all his neuroses and double life, was in a state of despair.  
  
He opened his mouth to refute Alfred’s guilt trip, but stopped when Alfred’s hand fell on his shoulder. In that moment, the fog surrounding him lessened. He was becoming as far obsessed as possible. He hadn’t left the cave in days and as a result he smelled dank and sweaty, and musty in a way that only the cave could trap moisture into one’s skin.  
  
“Go.”  
  
His joints groaned as he climbed the stairs. Obviously, upset about Bruce’s short term decision to become stagnant like a rock growing moss. A tuxedo—Armani, lay on his bed, shoes at the foot. The joy of the shower was lost on him. A chore, a mindless chore as he removed the stale odor from his skin. The spray slid over his back and down the valley between his shoulders, hot and slow, like a lover’s touch. Very much like his lover’s touch.  
  
Bruce rested his forehead against the slick bathroom tiles and gave himself over to the crawl of heat down his back. Many nights Clark’s fingers had taken the same path. After patrols hard and soft, they’d reunited in the shower. Sometimes, Clark taking the lead, but usually it was Bruce that pushed Clark against the wall and began to map the expanse of Clark’s naturally tawny skin with his mouth and hands. There was something addictive about Clark’s scent.  
  
Sunshine.  
  
Apples.  
  
Ozone.  
  
It was the scent of happiness, live, fresh, and true. And as much as Bruce claimed to live in the dark with the Batman being the manifestation of everything in his heart and soul, that scent—so lovely and real, made him genuinely calm and peaceful. As he hardened while the memories of their last encounter in the shower rolled over him, Bruce gave in and reached down to stroke himself. It was fast and almost painful the way he rubbed at his cock.  
  
There was no time for excitement.  
  
He came and closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to see his come go down the drain. Without the sleep, he didn’t have to think about his dreams. Those nights when he and Clark exhausted themselves were always nights where his dreams revolved around swinging through the air as Clark glided by his side or the dreamless void that only contained the knowledge of heat.  
  
No dark alleys and bloody pearls.  
  
No bats swooping down upon his head.  
  
Back in his room, his mind was on autopilot. He got into his clothes without much thought about what had transpired in the shower. That’s how he almost missed it. His attention being as fragmented as it was, didn’t register the presence of the white envelope sitting on top of his tux.  
  
The front was a white void and blank. Bruce approached it cautiously, knowing that Alfred hadn’t entered the room while he showered. He would have heard, right? He wasn’t that distracted.  
  
Bruce picked up the envelope and found it very light. A plain white card was revealed. It was a testament of being nondescript. Elegant fine scrawl familiar yet foreign stared back at him. A simple sentence that left Bruce perplexed.  
  
 _You can’t find what you don’t acknowledge._  
  
A game was being played with him. Someone had far too much knowledge and reach. He’d ask Alfred about the card later. The meaning of the phrase would taunt him for the remainder of the night.  


* * *

  
The Gotham Gala was the type of event that brought the social elite and all the higher up civil servants together. This included the same group from Gotham’s sister cities, Metropolis and Star City. The mayor had gone out to speak to Bruce and tried his best to encourage Bruce to continue and possibly increase his financing of certain charitable causes that included the mayor’s re-election campaign.  
  
Gordon was circulating as well. Though, he did stick to one corner eventually. Lois wasn’t there and that completely surprised Bruce. At least, her presence might have afforded him some opportunity to pick her brain.  
  
An hour in and Bruce was still nursing the same glass of champagne. His hand was near limp from all the handshaking. Of course, he didn’t let that bit of weakness show as the night wore on; still there were more offers to fix him up with nice daughters, granddaughters, and veiled offers of grandsons after it was noticed that the Prince of Gotham was going stag.  
  
The champagne began to affect him in earnest. Then, he realized food hadn’t touched his stomach in sometime. He passed through the sea of people and tables. Luck was on his side for once. This was one of those events that might have had the Wayne Family name on the banner and invitations, but he wasn’t involved in the day to day organizing and was thus ineligible to speak on its behalf.  
  
He helped himself to a few hors d’ouvres, just enough calories to keep him sober and levelheaded until the event was over. Another glass of champagne, another fake smile to some society-trained debutante.  
  
 _You can’t find what you don’t acknowledge._  
  
It came back to haunt him again. Just as a laugh floated on the air and made him take pause. Facing straight, he could tell the sound was off to his right. His stomach dropped and nausea rolled and the veneer of his composure began to crack.  
He turned slowly to the side.  
  
In the far corner of the room, standing like a vision out of fashion week, glasses gone, hair combed down exposing those natural raven curls, smile so bright until it made him ache. It was Clark. Alive. Present. Dressed to kill and completely oblivious to his staring.  
  
Clark was speaking to someone behind one of the room’s pillars. When Clark stopped laughing at the unseen person, his gaze, this evening full green, swept over the room and for a second landed on Bruce. That wide smile shrunk and Bruce was brought back to that night when all this started, except this time he reached out to Clark and didn’t let him leave.  
  
Clark turned away from him and took a sip of his champagne. The lack of recognition didn’t perturb Bruce in the least. Still, he made his move.  


* * *

  
  
He slid up beside Clark and inconspicuously linked their arms, pulling Clark towards a somewhat far off alcove.  
  
“Clark, I appreciate your flare for the dramatic, but this has gone on long enough.”  
  
Clark remained silent, gazing back at Bruce with clear eyes. “Days, Clark. I’ve been looking for you for days.”  
  
That errant curl, the imperfect symbol, on a most perfect hero decided to make its presence known. Clark smiled at him, and then his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall us meeting before, Mr. Wayne.”  
  
“This isn’t funny, Clark.” He growled.  
  
“Yes, Bruce. Tell me how you two are acquainted.”  
  
Lex stood behind Bruce; smirk firmly intact on his lips. Lex insinuated himself between the pair of brunettes and all but latched himself onto Clark’s side. The sight was sickening.  
  
Blood boiling in his veins, the only thing Bruce wanted to do was wrap his hands around Luthor’s throat and demand to know what he’d done.  
  
Topsy-turvy.  
  
The world was suddenly without order.  
  
Lex sidled up beside Clark and placed a proprietary hand upon Clark’s shoulder. Bruce watched for any signs of disgust. A flinch. A shift. Some tell to show that Clark hadn’t just buried a decade’s worth of lies, deceit, and betrayal.  
  
Clark looked perfectly calm—serene even. Clark’s gaze was clear and openly adoring. Not in the way that used to be directed at Bruce. No, this was for Lex and only Lex. The pain of it—of realizing that Clark had slipped away from him hurt in a way that the villains of Gotham could never hope to achieve. Then, Clark turned that smile on him. The one that was polite, but lacking full clarity; confusion hovered at the covers. Bruce had never been the recipient of this smile. This was the one reserved for people meeting Clark Kent, the mild mannered reporter and were unaware of the sharp mind that hid behind that unassuming exterior.  
  
Bruce’s throat tightened, making his voice sound far too rough for this environment. “I must apologize. I thought Clar—Mr. Kent was someone else.”  
  
He wouldn’t let the disbelief show when Clark’s quiet confidence returned under the direction of Lex’s squeeze of his shoulder.  
  
Lex’s smile was like a thousand knives gleaming beneath the sun, so sharp and ready to maim without being galvanized. “Not hardly, Bruce.” That hand slipped off Clark’s shoulder and roved down his back. Its destination made Clark’s cheeks color.  
  
“—Clark has one of those faces you don’t forget.” Lex added in a purr. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to continue circulating.” Lex’s gaze held Bruce and a victorious light shone in those blue-grey irises.  
  
“We’ll have to set up an interview, Mr. Wayne.” Clark’s smiled politely at him again and then seemed to wait for Lex to lead them away.  
  
The couple sidestepped him and walked through the crowd. The gala attendees parted before them like the Rea Sea. They were striking together.  
  
Clark was always striking.  
  
Bruce watched in disbelief. His heart beat so fast. Time slowed and his vision tunneled as Lex turned around to smirk at him. The smirk blossomed into a full grin of triumph.  
Sweet victory.  
  
The Bat had his target.  


* * *

  
  
_What drives a man to action? What creates a journey that one can't escape? Our hero--The Bat, has found his friend and lover. Like a Greek tragedy, there is a greater lesson to be learned. How can a hero find was he fails to acknowledge? Isn't that the crux of the story?  
  
Do you see it yet?  
  
What makes a hero truly great? A hero?  
  
Look. It's right in front of us.  
  
The Bat is our Odysseus and like the Ithacan king, he's committed the greatest sin against the gods and fate.  
  
Hubris._   


* * *

  
It was a fact that Batman hated Metropolis. Bruce didn't mind it so much; he simply tolerated it for the sake of business and always returned to Gotham, allowing himself to relax in her dark, damp embrace. In that, he found safety.  
  
In Metropolis, Batman found himself perched on rooftops and ledges. There was no hiding here, no place for evil to cultivate into the dark corners. So much light that only a hero like Superman could thrive here. All the times he came here, Batman felt awkward and ungainly and found it hard to adjust to the sleek and shiny surface that this city presented. Metropolis--she was the good sister. Perfect and clean and she wore her issues on her face. She was almost shallow.  
  
Gotham--was like a siren. Dark and sultry. Every twist and curve led to something new, something exciting, dangerous, and magical. She was a constant companion, because she understood darkness and wore it like the classic black dress. Her bleakness was her beauty. Her truth lay in her exterior. Obscure, but that was the clearest fact you'd ever get about her.  
  
She progressed in his life from tormentor to mother. Then, when he matured, she became his lover. The one that he would never shirk. Reminders of her lay everywhere.  
  
Gotham stayed in his mind constantly. Yet, Clark remained somewhere closer. As he perched on the rooftop at the building formerly belonging to the LuthorCorp empire, Batman watched, teeth grit and jaw clenched, as Lex Luthor strolled proudly through his penthouse in full nude glory. Smiling as though all the world was present to bear witness for his glorious triumph.  
  
Absolutely naked.  
  
Bruises clearly lined his neck. Marks skittered across the spread of his back.  
  
In his naked prominence, he still held the power of a man in control. His head turned back, because of a sound. A voice perhaps?  
  
Lex's smiled broadened. The recipient of Lex's attention remained unseen.  
  
The kiss, though, wasn't obscure.  
  
Clark stood there, leaning against a pillar. Whatever, he’d said after the kiss wasn’t as enticing to Lex as what lay in wait in the kitchen. Clark approached the kitchen. The robe hanging off his shoulders was blood red, so intense and startling that it actually made his natural tawny skin tone pale. His words were unknown to Bruce, but the reaction that Lex had was universal.  
  
He’d seen approximations of this look on Clark’s face before, but never like this. Absolute lust.  
  
The light flow and manipulation of the fabric made it easy to see that the material of the robe was expensive. In this context, Clark allowed himself to be somewhat pampered, indulged by the luxury of Lex’s love of the overly lush. Clark deserved this even if he denied himself.  
  
There was another blade making its way through his core. Seeing Clark share something secretive with Lex. Clark threw himself against the sofa, the robe falling open just enough that Batman knew what Lex’s gaze was basking upon.  
  
His jaw ached. The clench of his teeth grew tighter as Lex stalked over to the sofa and straddled Clark’s lap in a fluid motion. They were locked in a staring match. One that didn’t last long. And then, they set about ravishing each other: passionately, tenderly, almost painstakingly.  
  
Lex gave himself over to Clark. The pleasure was evident on his face and as he rode Clark, his face remained a constant canvas of pleasure. No underlying issues flickered across his face. No secondary thoughts that could distract him in those wonderful and fulfilling moments.  
  
He simply marveled in the feeling of Clark being inside him.  
  
Something that Bruce knew nothing about.  
  
When Lex’s slackened mouth finally formed a definitive shape, it was the familiar and pestering smirk. Then, Lex’s eyes narrowed and gazed out the window. Smile and eyes firmly directed at the Batman, who watching from his perch.  


* * *

  
The elevator doors opened to the Watchtower observation level and the immediate sounds of his comrades in arms assaulted his ears. He’d been distracted thinking of his reason for coming up. Undoubtedly, his presence would cause a stir.  
The Batman was almost as elusive in the League as in Gotham. A legend that few people outside of the other ‘founder’ had the pleasure or terrifying surprise of encountering.  
  
The change in volume was extremely noticeable as he continued to walk through the console room. On the right, he was approaching the Green Arrow and the Flash. Two of the League’s biggest chatterboxes, who would inform the rest of the League of his presence, if they didn’t know already.  
  
“Batman.” The Green Arrow greeted.  
  
“Arrow. Flash.” Batman returned and continued walking.  
  
There was no time for conversation or Oliver’s urging him to become a full-time member. He had one person in particular to see and he’d hopefully be a step closer to figuring out this Gordian knot of a situation.  
  
As Bruce neared the senior members’ meeting room, he found J’onn and Diana speaking. He’d admit watching the two of them talk harkened back to memories and feeling of jealous that at the time he’d used against Clark later on, because of his own insecurities about what Clark and Diana were doing together—their relationship.  
  
The Amazon Princess and the Last Son of Krypton. Just watching them, could fill anyone with the possibility of them making the ultimate couple.  
  
There were many times when Batman had watched his colleagues, Superman and Wonder Woman, in quiet conversation. They’d always shared a close professional relationship. One that extended beyond the bounds of the Watchtower and out into civilian life.

So striking.  
  
Even now, Batman could picture Superman and Wonder Woman standing at the windows looking out at the universe. The two league members were a perfect match, all dark beauty with eyes so blue and green that they had to be unearthly. But they were just friends despite what was whispered in the halls as gossip, the smut mags, and general speculation. Just friends that shared the occasional cup of coffee or watched a movie together.  
  
Diana knew. She hadn’t said anything to him, because she didn’t want a confrontation. In her own way, she wanted to acknowledge that Clark had told her and show Bruce that she would keep their confidence. He hoped that was still applicable now.  
  
He refused to dwell on the thought of being allowed to feel jealous of seeing Clark and Diana so close.  
  
“J’onn. Diana.”  
  
Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman stopped their conversation and regarded their rarely seen colleague. Diana’s blue eyes sparkled and one perfect brow arched inquisitively.  
  
They approached him, cautiously even. “Batman.”  
  
“Diana, if you’d excuse us.”  
  
“Whatever it is must be important for you to actually make a trip up here without the world being on the brink of destruction.”  
  
She smiled and patted his shoulder before disappearing into the hall.  
  
“Bruce.”  
  
“I’ve come, because your skills and discretion might be of assistance.”  
  
J’onn regarded him without saying a word. Bruce loosened his grip on his mental shields and allowed J’onn to feel his seriousness. “I’ll be of as much assistance as I can.”  
  
“Can you do a mental sweep of Superman?”  
  
“May I ask why?”  
  
“Why?” Batman growled in frustration. “Superman-Clark has been inactive with his duties and has been fraternizing with Luthor, who as I’m sure you can recall is one of the biggest thorns in the side of the League.”  
  
The Martian, who seldom laughed, had lips that turned up slightly. “I believe Superman is fine.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“It is not for me to say explicitly.”  
  
“J’onn, I want answers.” He grit his teeth and growled, though he knew his gruffness would have little effect on the Martian. “This isn’t right--”  
  
“You’re right, Batman. This isn’t right. However, as the World’s Greatest Detective, it is your job to set this all right.”  
  
“Tell me what’s going on? How is it that everyone else seems to be in the loop, except for me and Clark? I haven’t found any nanites. Magic seems to be the last option.”  
  
J’onn stepped away from Batman and returned to the window where he could gaze upon the world. “Bruce,” he began. “I assure you the answers lie right before you. Whether you choose to see them will be the only way any of this can be set right.”

Batman remained standing in the center of the room. “Can you at least tell me whether Clark’s will is intact?”  
  
“Possession, you mean?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“No, from what I can sense Clark is fine. His will is his own. Though, it might be influenced and manipulated by something else.”  
  
“Why is this happening to just Clark and I?”  
  
“So many questions, Batman. It’s you who needs to solve them.”  


* * *

  
With the insistence that Batman solve his own problems, the next phase of his strategy would rely on Bruce being himself. He needed to see Lex.  
  
Bruce already had issues with visiting Metropolis. Now, stepping willingly inside LexCorp without his suit and the other weapons at his deposal made him feel almost vulnerable.  
  
The elevator rocketed up to the executive level, opening up to reveal a smartly dressed blonde woman at the main desk. She wasn’t one of Lex’s usual types. There was still an air of danger about her, but without the immediate harshness and barely leashed lethality.  
  
Yet she, like the rest of Lex’s arsenal of bodyguards, was beautiful. Supermodel gorgeous, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to Lex. She smiled as he approached. There was no nametag on her desk, so there was only a warm smile to greet him.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Bruce Wayne to see Mr. Luthor.” He would spare her a moment of the act of flirtation. Lex’s staff were particularly hard-nose and an attempt to ply them with flattery might succeed in making his wait very uncomfortable.  
  
“I’ll inform Mr. Luthor.”  
  
She rose from her seat; her skirt was short, but professional and her legs were extremely trim and went on forever. Just the thing that would distract a normal man. She passed through his door and remained gone for no more than thirty seconds.  
  
“Mr. Luthor will see you now.”  
  
Bruce followed behind the unnamed blonde assistant and entered into Lex’s domain. The room was large and sparsely decorated, full of glass and sleek surfaces, as well as Lex’s favorite accessory of a leather couch.  
  
Lex sat behind his desk, looking far too smug at seeing Bruce at his door. He rose from the desk to greet Bruce, just barely stepping around the desk to gesture for Bruce to sit. “Bruce, welcome. Please sit.”  
  
Bruce sank into the plush chair in front of Lex’s glass desk. “Thank you for seeing me.”  
  
“Of course, seeing as how rarely you visit Metropolis, I couldn’t refuse to see you no matter how busy I am.”  
  
Bruce ignored the barb and gazed back at Lex who was now perched on the edge of the desk, ankle crossed over one knee. “Now, how may I help you?”  
  
“I want some clarification about your relationship with Clark Kent.”  
  
“Why would that be any of your concern?”  
  
“You know damn well why it is my concern.”  
  
Lex smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “ Say it, Bruce. Give me some understanding as to what you’re talking about.”  
  
“How did you and Clark come to be together?”  
  
“We’ve had a long and complicated history. We finally decided to cast our issues aside and go for what he really wanted. I was very amendable to his change of heart and we easily reconciled.”  
  
“Reconciled?” Bruce stood from his seat and entered into Lex’s space. “ What did you do to him?”  
  
“I haven’t done anything to him. Yet, I wonder why you’re so vehemently concerned about someone who you barely know.”  
  
“Clark and I…know each other and we were building a relationship until he disappeared and ended up on your arm. That’s why I want to know what you’ve done?”  
  
“It’s not me, Bruce. Consider it your loss. Now, I suggest if the only topic you care to discuss is my relationship with Clark Kent, then you can see your way out.”  
  
“I’ll find out what’s going on, Lex. Whatever you’re using to control him…I’ll find it and you’ll be sorry.”  
  
“No, Bruce. You’re the sorry one for letting a golden opportunity slip through your fingers.”  
  
Bruce didn’t say another word as he stalked out of Lex’s office. He was unfazed by Lex’s cryptic speech. He’d see Clark sooner or later. Sooner, because the situation was getting out of hand.

* * *

  
_There is darkness and light in all things._   
  
_Finding the balance is necessary for survival._   
  
_What is it that connects determination, trust, and faith? The one emotion that drives all of them is the one thing our hero fails to recognize._

* * *

  
Another event.  
  
This time, it was hosted in Metropolis. He was again the wallflower, hovering in a far off corner, watching the pair that were the supreme topic of discussion that night. The star reporter from the Planet and the Prince of Metropolis. They cut a striking figure together.  
  
It grated him that he noticed like everyone else when really, he should have been looking for the reasoning behind this change-up.  
  
Lois joined him sometime later. Displeasure of the sight of her partner and one of her many nemeses cavorting romantically was clearly written across her face.  
  
She swallowed down the rest of her champagne. “ I’m going to throw you a bone here. “ Lois said as she turned away from Lex and Clark laughing and leaning close to each other to face Bruce. “ I still don’t have the faintest idea what brought all of this on or why Clark simply acts like you don’t exist…Not filling me in is one thing. Running off to Daddy Warbucks to rekindle an old flame makes me nauseous.”  
  
Bruce sipped his champagne and continued to watch the couple discretely. God was in the details and he wasn’t sparing anything. “It’s a free country and Clark is a big boy.”  
  
They watched Clark excuse himself from Lex’s side and head towards the balcony. Seeing an opportunity, Lois stepped into his line of sight, thoroughly blocking any chance of following Clark or Lex with his eyes. “ I expect you to fix it. Something more than instinct is telling me you broke it. Broke Clark. So, you have to fix it. You, Clark, and your relationship.”  
  
She was gone a second later, leaving Bruce with one more fire in his belly. Fix it? He wasn’t sure how to do so. Seeing his opportunity for what it was, he also went out to the balcony.  


* * *

  
“I know you’ve been following me, Mr. Wayne.”  
  
“Bruce, please.”  
  
Clark looked nonplussed. “ My question is why?”  
  
“It wouldn’t do to deny the uncanny ability for the two of us to be in the same places. You asked ‘why’, Clark. I’ve been finding myself asking the same question. “  
  
Bruce’s tone conveyed something that softened Clark. “Lately, it feels like I’m missing something. I’m happy, but there are times when this—this life feels more like a dream than reality. I know something is missing.”  
  
“What does Lex say?”  
  
“He’s very happy right now. The way he looks at me…That’s a private matter,” he blushed and grinned. “I’m happy when I don’t think about it deeply.”  
  
Lex chose that moment to arrive. “Clark.”  
  
“Yes, Lex.”  
  
“I think we should be leaving now. After all, we have early meetings tomorrow.”  
  
Clark smiled beatifically at Bruce. “It was nice seeing you again, Mr.—Bruce. Hopefully, we’ll be able to make that interview eventually.”  
  
Bruce watched Clark go and resolved to solve the issue by the end of the night.  


* * *

  
After a harried patrol, he returned to his car. The streets were safe for the night even if the criminals who’d encountered the Dark Knight would permanently bare scars of the encounter. As he neared his car, something small and white caught his eyes.  
  
Another envelope awaited him.  
  
 _Dear B,  
  
I waited until you found the answer.  
  
Good boy.  
  
You should understand why I did this. We were set on this path a long time ago. Choosing to walk it solitary would have us lose everything. Your family—A love, children (that you do not yet know), friends. Kent would work himself to death and retreat to the confines of solitude without a steadying force. It was unnatural for him. Just like watching a star die—It’s a sight that haunts you.  
  
You’ll be alone in the manor with nothing else but your money and cold walls. Stop being stubborn and go after what you want. Don’t push your strength away and call it a weakness.  
  
See you in the future,  
  
B.W.  
  
P.S. Go to Gotham Park_  


* * *

  
He arrived shortly thereafter in Gotham Park as Bruce Wayne, not the Batman. Unsure of where to go, he simply walked. Bruce found Clark by the willow trees. The breeze blew his hair and his collar was pulled up about his neck. Clark looked expectant and anxious.  
  
Just like Bruce.  
  
His pace slowed as he neared Clark’s position. Clark looked up, meeting Bruce’s eyes , he smiled. “I was told to come here. That I’d finally get some answers.”  
  
That smile, so open and bright, unrestrained and beautiful; finally it was back on him. Bruce didn’t hold back from stroking Clark’s face. And surprisingly, Clark didn’t pull back. He allowed Bruce to feel the contours of his tanned cheeks. “Yeah, I’m stubborn, pig-headed, and obsessive. Despite all of that--”  
  
“True.”  
  
Bruce surged on smirking to himself. “ You love me and like a real bastard, I never said the same in return.” Bruce’s hands slipped into Clark’s hair. While their gazes remained locked, he finally allowed himself to give up the last bit of himself that refused to be loved, that was afraid of love. He realized then as Clark looked back at him, the only thing he should have been scared of was no longer having Clark by his side.  
  
Now, he knew that was worth everything.  
  
Their lips crushed together and the world fell away. The spell was broken.  


* * *

  
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m wrong here, like I keep miscalculating what it is that we both want out of this. There are moments when we understand each other better than anyone else in the universe. Then, there are others when I just don’t know. A lot of things are more than just lost in translation.”  
  
The moment Clark finished speaking Bruce leapt across the bed and wrapped him up in his arms and kissed him until he was breathless.  
  
“I’m an idiot.”  
  
“You are?” Clark asked unsure and confused, because Bruce was vehemently agreeing with him.  
  
Bruce continued to kiss him. Just kiss and touch and feel with more intensity and passion than any time they’d had sex. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Clark eyed him warily, trying to see just what could have made Bruce’s train jump the tracks moments before. He scanned him and found nothing different. “Bruce, are you okay?”  
  
Finally, Bruce pulled away. Still touching Clark, he gazed back at him, just staring with open awe and amazement. “I’m good. I just realized some things. Important things--”  
  
“Like?”  
  
“The fact that I know you love me and I should’ve said the same thing to you a long time ago.” Bruce stroked Clark’s cheek. “ I love you, Clark.”  
  
Everything made sense now and he wasn’t fighting what was actually good for him.  
  
Bruce felt strong. With Clark’s arm going around him in return, he felt something else too.  
  
He felt loved.  
  
The story was sealed with a kiss.  


* * *

  
_Even the strongest, bravest, and wisest of men can learn something. Never take love for granted.  
  
Your great-grandfathers were heroes: the Bat and the Last Son of Krypton. None of us will live up to their deeds and exploits.  
  
Terry closed the album and turned to his sleeping grandson, hoping the boy had learned a lesson that rocked harder men and left them distraught. The boy was young and precocious, and stubborn like his great-grandfather—Terry’s father.  
  
Yet unlike his namesake, the boy had the advantage of being taught there was no escaping love._  
  
The End


End file.
